The Road Ahead
by Slacker Mentality
Summary: In the summer of their senior year, the band hit the road for Detroit Rock City, bringing with them crushes, conflicts and a whole lot of Dewey. [ -- UPDATED! -- ]
1. I'm On My Way

In a run-down black van, its sides tattooed with pictures of skulls and rock instruments, there sat a young woman.

_"Hey-hey, mama, said the way you moooove, go'a make you sweat, gonna make you groove!!!"_

Summer Hathaway waited patiently for the howling roar of a Zeppelin riff die away as the first verse surged on. Annoyed, she quirked an eyebrow at her close friend, mentor and client Dewey Finn as he convulsed at the wheel, shrieking like a caged monkey as his hair flailed all around.

_"Oh-oh, child, way you shake that thiiing, gonna make you burn, gonna make you stiiiing……!!!"_

Again, as the vocal solo of _Black Dog _died away, the music exploded to life and shook the van like a small earthquake. Unperturbed, she looked back down at her schedule and measured her wristwatch against it. Dewey, meanwhile, was slamming his head against the seat, pulling faces that, when she thought about it, were quite frightening.

"Dewey," she said sternly, but not even she heard it.

With a sigh, she reached for the volume knob and killed the noise.

"Dewey!"

It took a small while for the School of Rock frontman to wind down. When he did, he gave her a troubled glance.

"Summer, we've been over this before," he chastised her, "You _never _stop the rock before the rock says its okay. And that little number just _started_, what's the big idea?!"

"I was thinking it'd be nice if we could just hum along to the ringing in our ears for a while," she muttered with no small amount of sarcasm.

"Uh-oh," said Dewey, a psychotic smile creeping over his features, "Sounds like Madame Sassy von Sasstraum is hankering for a dose of The _Who__!_"

"No, that's not what I – "

Whatever she had to say next would remain a mystery to all but her, as Dewey expertly changed CDs and was quickly back in action. With a hopeless sigh, she put her PalmPilot in the glove compartment and folded her arms, falling against the seat as she did so.

In the seven years that had passed since Principal Mullins gestured for Dewey to step into her classroom and her life, Summer Hathaway had become quite the lady. Since it was her duty from the start to be prim and punctual, her gilded-edge attitude stood firm no matter how crazy things got – in retrospect, she'd helped propel the band to the point that they'd reached. She was elegance and grace sitting curtly atop the mad beast they called The School of Rock, and it showed in her appearance: her dark, smiling eyes; long raven hair; ruby red lips and fair, dimpled cheeks harked back to a time where she was a small girl unconvinced by a bogus substitute teacher and his manic take on education. But at the same time, her added height, casual dress and sweet tone of voice made her completely approachable. The band was indeed very fortunate to be under her guidance, and they were often reminding her so.

The song came to a resounding finish, and Dewey tried to emulate the sound of a screaming audience. Unsurprisingly, (and much to Summer's displeasure,) he pulled it off. They were three blocks into their East Coast tour, and already she needed an aspirin.

"Aw-haw-hawl-_RIGHT, THEN!" _he hollered, pulling up against the curb, "First stop on the _ROCKIN'-_est roadshow since Woodstock 1……LAWRENCE'S HOUSE!"

With a nod and a grin, Summer ticked her checklist.

0-o

As Summer leant over the seat and chatted politely with Lawrence, she had to admire Dewey's handiwork. The body of the van was like a Reggae artist's basement, with brightly colored beanbags, weird and shocking designs up and down the walls, and of course, expensive guitars framing the entire ensemble.

She was thankful for Lawrence, even though they didn't know one another very well. She liked how his prep school stiffness took her back to a time before success – reflection seemed to make the present sweeter. Yes, he still walked and talked like he was wearing a back brace, but having spent years watching Dewey aneurysm and scream bloody murder into the microphone, a slice of sanity was like a breath of fresh air for her.

After they'd picked up vocalists Alicia, Tomika and Marta, the van rocked its way downtown for their drummer, Freddy Jones. That afternoon, he sat on his stool on the sidewalk, twirling a drumstick absently and thinking about the coming tour, their first ever interstate trip.

_Seven years well spent, _he mused with a small smile. After the Battle of the Bands, School of Rock had been in high demand, if only because the gimmick of kids playing great music was so novel and cute. As they grew, however, the gimmick wore away and their music stood on its own, building a following across New York and its neighboring states, and at last sending them on the road to blow minds on foreign turf. In that time, Freddy had plunged headlong into the world of contemporary punk, favoring Good Charlotte, Sum 41 and Blink 182 over most of Dewey's music. It showed in his appearance, too. The spiked look stayed long after the final bow that afternoon, and his face, which had been striking even at ten, had matured into that of a poster-boy punk rocker with deep, narrowed eyes, a sandy blonde goatee and a set jaw.

"Heya, Spazzy," came a sing-song call as he tossed a drumstick into the air.

"Katie!" he cried, startled. The airborne drumstick decked him across the head on its way down.

She giggled. And oh, it melted him. She checked both ways before crossing the street, her beloved bass guitar in tow; and all the while a broad, excited smile stayed with her. Cursing under his breath, Freddy grabbed the stick before it rolled into the gutter and bolted upright as soon as he did, trying to maintain his composure as she came ever closer. It wasn't that he _liked _her, per se, it was just……well, yes. He really did, and who could blame him? At Horace Green she was by far the prettiest girl he'd known, and as time went by, she got a _lot _prettier. Her supple skin had become a beautiful shade of bronze, and her naturally full lips were always tinted with an off-beat and distinctly Katy color. Today it was lavender, and Freddy's urge to share in it had never been stronger. She saved her frizzy dreads for the stage only, and he was glad for it – he loved the silky straightness of her dark hair, streaked with magenta highlights. Then there were her eyes……

"Freddy?"

"Huh?"

She was giving him a dubious look. He shook his head and returned her stare with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," he chuckled lightly, "Kinda tuned out there for a sec. What are you doing here?"

"That's what I was _trying _to tell you," she scolded, "I thought I'd save Dewey the effort, so I had my Mom drop me off here. Where's the rest of your kit?"

She paid mention to the absence of most of his drums. All she saw on the street corner were his sticks, stool and snare.

"Oh, the venues agreed to provide a kit _for _me," he explained, "Y'know, just to save some room in the van."

"Oh, cool."

"Yeah."

The two of them smiled and nodded in what Freddy considered an awkward moment, but Katy paid it no mind. She turned her gaze to the end of the street, waiting to hear the muffled roar of hard rock and the haze of exhaust fumes that went with it. Freddy, meanwhile, went back into his trance, admiring her slender body from the neck down. As usual, she was dressed in casual clothes that smacked of tomboy, but on her it was so becoming. A turquoise _Radiohead _T-shirt, acid-washed denim trousers with the knees torn open and a tattered pair of red sneakers was all she cared to throw on that morning – and in Freddy's eyes, she was _still _the most beautiful thing he'd seen.

She gave a joyful squeal at the sound of a sputtering engine.

o-0

"Well, that only leaves one more," said Summer.

"I think I know who!"

Laughing like a maniac, Dewey pulled over at the front of a lavish home and blared the horn. And the door swung open almost immediately.

Zack Mooneyham was a far cry from the Horace Green 5th grader Dewey had been introduced to way back when. His comb-over had long been replaced by a Paul McCartney _Beatles_-era bowler cut, with a fringe that covered half his eyes and sideburns etched down his jaw. Since school was out of session, his chin was peppered with small, dark whiskers – but it was still Zack, no matter how many changes he'd made in seven years. His lips were still pursed and wet, his face sallow and fair, and his big dark eyes hooded and lazy, like the night before had been the wildest gig ever.

He had blossomed into the tallest of them all, certainly taller than Dewey (as if _that_ were an achievement) and almost an inch higher than both Lawrence and Tomika. And his lanky frame was decked out in a worn _Ramones_ long-sleeve and burnt auburn bell-bottoms, the style harking back to a young Robert Plant fronting Zeppelin in the Seventies. No-one appreciated the look more than Dewey. That drawn-out, absent stare was so Kurt Cobain! Zack was Dewey's protégé, his heir to the throne of psychedelic solos and unkempt hair. No drugs, no liquor, just music – the very soul of music.

"Zack _ATTARRRGHK!!!" _bellowed Dew, pumping his fists like a madman.

"'Sup, guys?" grinned Zack. His lopsided, hesitant grin.

His voice was deep and hollow now, not that he cared to exercise it very often when his guitar spoke loud enough for the both of them. For a guy who melted faces left, right and centre, he was still as quiet as a mouse.

Summer straightened almost immediately, her peaches-and-cream complexion becoming noticeably peachier. She'd felt a certain way about Zack ever since he blew a thousand heads off at the Battle of the Bands, when they were all only ten. However, in true Summer fashion, 'Win Zack's Heart' had been jotted down as a memo, beneath a thousand different things to do on her PalmPilot. But with many vacant hours on the road ahead, a lot of her schedule had been cleared……

Katy, also a Zack fan, was far more discreet in her attraction. Instead of staring or blushing, she turned away and began to make room for his guitar and amp, shifting her bass to a pedestal further to the back of the van.

"Thanks," said Zack, running a hand through his hair.

He lifted his guitar through the opening and Freddy hung it on a wall adjacent to him.

"Climb on in, bro," the drummer smiled, hoisting Zack into their makeshift rumpus room.

Zack greeted everyone with mellow enthusiasm once inside, sorting through his duffel bag for some CDs for the trip. Dewey, of course, had most of what he had already; so Zack set aside Hendrix and Pink Floyd and took out some modern rock that Dewey was yet to hear. The Darkness, Green Day and Jet were to become popular favorites along the way.

"Alright!" called Dewey as his posse settled into the assortment of beanbags behind him. "Is everyone wearing shoes? 'Cuz there are asses out there that need kicking!"

_"Yeah!" _cheered the eight of them, cracking open a case of Coke and toasting their success.

The van shuddered to life to the strains of _Sweet Child of Mine_, and in a cloud of smoke, they were on their way.


	2. Food, Glorious Food

"Yo, Dew," said Freddy, crossing his elbows over the front seats, "You gonna toss those beers back here, or are you gonna drink 'em all yourself?"

Dewey belched and set his half-empty bottle to one side as he drove.

"Are you kiddin'?" he replied with a snort, "Your parents have elected _moi _to be the responsible adult of this little shenanigan – what the hell kind of responsible adult would I be if I let you guys drink beer?"

"The kind of responsible adult who drinks while he's driving?" suggested Summer, unimpressed.

"Yeah," said Dewey, agreeing, but not really understanding. "Now get back there, Ah-_rrrrr_uppuh-pum-pum, and work on your fills. There's plenty o' drinks in the icebox."

"Yeah, if you call 7Up the drink of hard rockers," muttered Freddy, doing as he was told.

"I take it you know where you're going," said Summer to Dewey as he bobbed along to The Doors.

"Detroit Rock City, baby!" crowed Dew, taking another sip of booze. "Did I tell you about the time I _almost _got to open for KISS at their reunion?"

"One thing at a time. Minnesota's the _last _gig you're playing. Between now and then, we've got more than a dozen shows lined up over six different States, so if you want to make it as far as Michigan, do yourself a favor and turn left at these lights."

"What _would _I do without you?" he remarked with a grin, following her orders.

"Stage dive out your apartment window," said Summer, also beaming widely as she popped open a beer and took a long draw from the bottle.

0-o

_Spent my days with a woman unkind, Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine. _

To the relief of all present, Zeppelin's fourth album had mellowed out with the song _Going to California_, and for a while the band sat in harmonious quietude, listening to the soft, high-strung acoustic work of Jimmy Page as the van trundled along.

_Made up my mind to make a new start, Going To __California__ with an aching in my heart._

From underneath his fringe, Zack examined his bandmates as shafts of afternoon sunlight filtered through the portholes. Freddy was crouched, resting up against the front seats, from which the back of Dewey and Summer's heads could be seen. He was twirling his sticks and looking expressionlessly down at Alicia's shoe, probably quite deep in thought. Lawrence was up against the wall, a cushion nestled behind his head as he read through _The New Shorter Oxford Dictionary_. What a way to entertain yourself, thought Zack with a smirk.

Next to Lawrence was the trio of backup vocalists. Alicia and Marta lay snoozing under each of Tomika's arms, and Tomika too was nodding off with a cute smile curling over her mouth – a soul sister Santa Claus, that was a good description. Behind them, and in the farthest corner of the van, Katie lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she plucked at her bass guitar.

Now, Zack might have been quiet and introverted, but he was no fool. Katie was very, very pretty, and was killer sweet to boot. Though he really only talked openly with Freddy and Dewey, he had still taken the time to get to know her over the years, and never once found something he didn't like. But still……a relationship? It wasn't Zack's style. He fancied himself to be somewhat of a Bob Dylan – why get a woman to justify your life when the music does it just as well?

Sighing through his nose, Zack turned away and looked out at the passing neighborhood. There were a lot of miles to put behind them, but he knew that, when the chips were down, it would all be over way too soon.

It was when he turned his eyes away from Katie that Katie turned her eyes to him.

_Zack, _she thought, her expression unchanging. _Look at him sitting there on that beanbag, cuddling his guitar like it's some kind of security blanket._

Cuddling, of course, was an overstatement. The body of his guitar was nestled comfortably beneath his arms, and the fret leant back over his shoulder. In truth, Katie wished she could exchange places with the instrument, but she quickly shook the thoughts out of her head. This trip would be so much easier if she weren't so hung up on this spaced-out heartthrob!

The song began to fade at the final chords, and Dewey gave a loud sigh of contentment.            

"Who's hungry?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at an approaching Burger King.

o-0

"Alright, listen to this," said Summer, leafing through a newspaper as they all sat round a table in the corner. "Ahem. '_The School of Rock, once called The Jackson Five for metalheads, has fast become a rousing tribute to the glory days of music……Zack's Zeppelin-era solos, Tomika's sharp gospel pipes and frontman Dewey Finn's own brand of glam rock energy mean every number is a treat to behold……'"_

A murmur of approval rose up from the band. It wasn't the first good review they'd read.

"Easy on the burgers, Dew," said Freddy, as Dewey shed the wrapper of his third that afternoon. "Billy only made you one outfit, y'know – how many successful rockers have their gut poking through on stage?"

"Meat Woaf dib it all vuh time," argued Dewey with a mouthful of food.

"Mm. Good point."

"I _hope _we won't be having fast food every day," remarked Summer, sharply. "Need I remind you of how greasy treats can affect your performance on stage if no moderation is exercised?"

"No, you _needn't,_" said Dewey, setting his burger down and reaching for his drink. "And that whole deal about fatty foods being bad for you is such a bunch of crapola, man! When I went on tour with MaggotDeath back in the Nineties, I ate and _drank _pizza rolls! Do I look unhealthy to you?"

Everybody looked down at their meals. After a brief silence, Alicia quietly pushed her fries away and said, "I'll be in the van."

0-o

"……and then you just follow the freeway for the next fifty odd miles," finished Summer, falling back into her seat exhaustedly.

Dewey, at last free of the twists and turns of suburban New York, also fell back and shuffled down in his seat, so that one of his legs was slung over the wheel and he was basically driving with his foot.

Mortified, Summer leant over to take the wheel and let Dewey scrounge around for snacks and CDs.

"I suppose you plan to get us _arrested _more than once along the way?" she hissed.

"Man, the last time I was on tour, the fuzz followed me to every state border," said Dewey, "Like they had to make sure I was gone before they got back to their day-to-day routine. It ain't a tour until you've been breath tested and given a background check, I'll tell you that twice."

"I'm sure that would look _divine_ on my permanent record."

"Your permanent record?!" cried Dew, exasperated. "What are you _talking _about? You're seventeen years old, still too young to be tried in a court of law! You should be committing arson between classes!"

"Hey, can I quote you on that, Dew?" asked Freddy from the back.

"No."

"It's not that I have a _problem _with you setting an _awful _example for a group of minors," said Summer with no small amount of annoyance, "But we might be faced with a problem if, instead of rocking on stage, we're calling our parents from the side of the road as the police tow the van away!"

Dewey thought it over and slowly began to nod.

"You're right," he said in all seriousness. "You are absolutely right. See, that's why you're the manager and I'm the tortured genius lead singer with a heart of gold."

"Thank you."

Dewey folded his hands over his chest and let his eyes fall closed.

"Well," he yawned, "Wake me if we need to slow down."

Summer fumed, but didn't object. As if reading her mind, Freddy offered to climb over and take the wheel, having got his license in the Fall. So Summer, with a grateful smile, climbed into the back with the rest of the band; Dewey shifted his bulk to the passenger seat; and Freddy, seatbelt in place, took command of the van.

It was quite late in the day. The only music now was the soft snoring of Dewey Finn and Zack's experimental riffs in the back.

"Whaddaya call that?" asked Tomika after a particularly peaceful strum.

"The Odyssey," said Zack, only briefly affording her eye contact. "I wrote it during English last semester."

"I like it," Katie enthused.

"So do I," said Summer, a little louder. "Got any lyrics for it?"

"None yet," he replied.

It seemed obvious to Katie that Zack only wanted the spotlight when he was rocking. He didn't like questions, or encouragement or any kind of good-natured confrontation. In a way, she admired his Lone Wolf attitude, but she also despaired over it – would they ever get a chance to talk if he was so caught up being quiet? She pondered over it for a little while, before a small smile crept over her gorgeous lips.

"What were those first chords?" she asked him earnestly as she took her bass and propped it on her lap.

"Oh, they're……G……A minor……then back to G……then you rest on C, and you kind of repeat that until the chorus," said Zack, with a little more enthusiasm than normal.

Katie took the opportunity to scoot a little closer, and Lawrence shifted to make room.

"Like this?" she asked, expertly following his direction.

"Yeah, you got it!" he chuckled. "Good job!"

She looked up at him with a warm smile in her eyes, and for a moment, Zack held the gaze and felt his ears become hot. At the same time, the two of them were scrutinized by a jealous glare from Summer Hathaway, and a fleeting, heartbroken glance from Freddy Jones, his sad eyes looking away from the rear view mirror and back to the road ahead.


	3. Dashboard Confessional

**A/N: **A big thank you to my reviewers! No greater feeling than being ebbed on by your peers, I'll tell you that for a dollar. And Phish Food – since I've graced you with an update, perhaps you'd like to return the favor and keep going with _Should I Stay Or Should I Go_, rather than leaving poor saps like me in suspense!

0-o

It must have been one in the morning.

Freddy Jones had his arms draped over the wheel, and his chin, in turn, rested on his arms. Glumly, he followed the featureless road for as far as the headlights shone, with only the low whistle of passing trees to accompany him. He sighed and glanced into the mirror again. With everyone fast asleep, he had no misgivings over staring at Katie as she sat limply in the pit of a beanbag, her lips partly open to release shallow snores.

And she was so beautiful in the dim glow of the ceiling light.

The shadows played upon her face and gave the illusion of a porcelain mask. As she swayed gently to the shaking of the van, a stray lock of hair fell over one delicately closed eye, and in that instant, Freddy grimaced at his rotten luck. How could he have let this happen? He'd known her for so long, and had been afforded dozens of opportunities to make a move or prove his worth. Mulling over it, his eyes glazed over as the endless road became a passage of time, and he followed it back to their first ever gig……

The world had changed dramatically for the Horace Green 5th graders after the Battle of the Bands. When it became apparent to the 'helper' students that they weren't really serving a purpose at all, everyone went their separate ways. Frankie, Leonard and the rest became distanced from Dewey's disciples; Gordon became immersed in computers and no longer did lighting; and Billy went off to pursue his dream of becoming the next Carson Kressley.

At one point, Freddy had entertained the idea of dating Michelle, if only because she'd expressed so much interest in him. They were fourteen years old, and she'd arranged to have him stay for dinner and meet her parents after band practice. That afternoon, Freddy had shown up to Dewey's earlier than even he; and was planning to tighten up his kit until the rest of the band arrived.

He remembered pausing in the doorway when he heard the low purr of a bass guitar.

Creeping inside with mischief on his mind, Freddy had peered around a broad wood column, ready to give Katie the fright of her life. He'd stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her there, though. To the untrained eye, there was nothing different or special about the way she stood, her guitar strap slung casually around her neck. But Freddy was awestricken. He studied her face, watched the subtle knit of her brow, or the way in which she bit her lip or combed stray threads of hair behind her ear. He drank in all of her little nuances as she plucked away at her bass, and fell hopelessly in love with her right then and there. When she at last looked up, he didn't turn away, he just stood there, transfixed.

"Heya, Freddy," she'd said to him with a bored smile, "Didn't hear you come in."

He vividly recalled wanting to tell her how he felt, but then Dewey had barreled in with a mind to melt faces. After practice, Freddy had forgotten all about Michelle and their dinner date, and stumbled into the hazy eve with nothing but Katie on the brain. Three years of awkward repression had followed, and –

_Wump!_

A pothole in the road shook him from his thoughts. He took a sharp intake of breath and eased back into his seat, glancing again at the mirror for a moment. He did a double-take, however, when he discovered the impact had sent Katie's head straight for Zack's shoulder, and dismayed, he watched her unconsciously snuggle up against his best friend. 

"You got a thing for Zack, dude?"

"_Augh!" _cried Freddy, flinching away from Dewey's sudden interjection.

Dewey, having been partially conscious for the last ten minutes, gave a bemused snicker and sat upright, dusting corn chip crumbs off his shirt.

"Don't……_do _that, man!" Freddy hissed, "I could've swerved clean into a ditch!"

"Could've, should've, would've," yawned Dew, scratching his whiskers. "Looks to me as though _you_ been thinkin' a lot about what might've been, am I right? S'what's the deal with you n' Katie?"

"I dunno what you mean," he murmured, frowning to note that his cheeks had become hot.

"C'mooon, Spazzy, who'm I gonna tell? You like Katie! Perfectly natural, the chick's a loaded pistol."

"_Would you keep it down?" _the drummer seethed. "Someone might be listening!"

Dewey peered over his shoulder and looked at Summer, curled up on her stomach like a sleeping Doberman and muttering something about gold stars.

"Uh, nope," he smirked. "They're all out like a light. So, c'mon, lay it on me. Let's have a man-to-man, man; it's a tour van tradition!"

Freddy stared long and hard out at the road before him. Of course he trusted Dewey, and in truth, he wanted someone to lay his angst on for a while. But still……Freddy Jones was a resolute punk rocker, not some jealous whiner with a mind to box his best friend's ears. He resolved to fill Dewey in, but to keep a certain tone of voice that said to the obese crooner, 'I don't really give a crap.'

"Yeah, I like her," he murmured, broodingly. "Y'satisfied?"

"I guess," shrugged Dewey, fishing for M&Ms between the seat cushions. "Are you gonna ask her out?"

"Uh, hello? Y'wanna take a look behind you?"

Dewey glanced over at Zack and Katie. Granted, it was a rather tender moment, but Dewey knew better. He gave a hearty sigh and crossed his legs over the dashboard, searching for the right words.

"Listen, Freddy," he began in all seriousness, "If you think Zack's got a better shot at the prize, you should think again. That guy's married to the music, and trust me – he's a devoted husband."

"I don't get it."

"Zack Attack ain't ready, pal! He's in his _eh-leh-ment_, like Kurt before Courtney. The guy shreds like an old pro, and trust me when I tell you he won't settle down until he goes double platinum! Katie'll figure that out sooner than you."

"Wait until she settles for second best," said Freddy, despondently. "That's kind of a downer."

"You're not second best, dude, you just haven't been tryin' hard enough. As long as Zack's workin' his Ringo routine, she'll always dig him. Just get in there and express yourself, she'll be blown away!"

"Express myself how?" Freddy asked in earnest, willing to listen, but still skeptical.

"Do what any great musician does," shrugged Dew, pulling a wad of chewed gum off the upholstered ceiling and popping it into his mouth, "Write a song."

At this, Freddy's face darkened.

"Write a song? Dewey, I'm a drummer. What would I do, get you or……_Zack _to sing it?"

"You do what you think's enough for her, man," mumbled Dewey, pulling a sour face and spitting the gum out the window, "Uck. That was _not_ my gum."

The van trundled along, and for a while the two front-seaters sat in pensive silence. Dewey stretched his arms and farted, prompting Summer to moan about demerits in her sleep, but Freddy paid it no mind. He just kept driving, lost in thought.

"Pull over, Bold As Love," said Dewey, unbuckling his seatbelt. "I'll drive, you go get some shut-eye."

"I'm okay," he murmured vaguely.

"No, c'mon, get your rest. Y'been cruisin' for hours, n' I'm wide awake."

"Yeah……yeah, alright."

His bearings restored, Freddy pulled the van to the side of the desolate road and climbed quietly into the back, trying his hardest not to step on Marta. He surveyed the van in the dim and found a vacant corner next to Lawrence, whose glasses had gone cockeyed as he leant up against a door.

"Watch yourself, Larry," whispered Freddy, easing Lawrence's wayward leg to the side and falling listlessly into a small, vacant beanbag.

_A song, _he thought to himself, _a song for……a song for Katie……_

Freddy Jones had scarcely found a melody before he was consumed by a deep, dreamless sleep.


	4. Waterloo!

"Can we pull over?" Zack mumbled between shallow breaths.

"What for?" Dewey called over his shoulder, a gnawed length of salami between his teeth.

"I know what for," said Freddy, "It's like a freaking oven in here! Dewey, you smell like my gym socks, man, this whole _van_ smells like my gym socks!"

"It must be a hundred degrees at least," Lawrence added, quickly and quietly.

"So stick your head out the window already!"

"There _aren't _any windows back here!" barked Summer, whacking the band frontman across the back of his head. "And no offence, but watching you drive in your underwear is _horrifying!_"

"None taken, and you know you love it," said Dew with a snicker, itching his bare, sweaty stomach. "I dunno what you want from me, guys. I mean we could stop and take a breather, but if it messes with Summer's schedule??"

"Are you kidding me?" she cried. "We're almost fourteen hours _ahead _of schedule! I didn't think you'd keep going after dark."

"Well then, kiss my grits!" howled Dewey.

He swerved the van to the side of the road, and it shuddered to a halt in a haze of exhaust fumes. Seven sweaty musicians and one flustered musical manager burst from the back and staggered onto the asphalt, gasping for air. Zack stumbled a small distance from the group, hunching over and bracing his knees with his hands.

"Y'alright?" asked Freddy, groggily.

"I'm fine," Zack assured him, absently waving him off.

Katie sat down in the grass and took a hold of the tears in her trouser knees. Without a second thought, she ripped them all the way around and stuffed the ruined material into her backpack, leaving her clad in a crude (but oddly fashionable) pair of torn denim shorts, with stray threads plastered down her glistening calves. Freddy admired her from the corner of one partly open eye, and took a swig of warm beer for courage.

"Now there's a good idea," he remarked, falling onto his back beside her. "Stylish _and _practical - it's you!"

_Too strong, ease off, _his mind warned him, but Katie scarcely noticed. She merely gave him a weak smile, her dark eyes dazed and lazy from the sweltering summer heat. Whereas the day before had been only mildly humid, this morning was impossibly hot, and nobody was taking it well. Freddy cleared his throat and set the bottle to one side, draping his elbows over his knees and staring vacantly at the woodlands on the other side of the road. He gradually became attuned to the shrill song of a thousand cicadas and was beginning to relax when Katie gave a small yawn from beside him. Sluggishly, he turned to face her.

She had stretched her limber arms elegantly in front of her, and rested her head on them, murmuring sweet nothings as the world became a blur. Unconsciously, Freddy reached for a thick tress of wet hair plastered over her brow, and combed it away, mesmerized by her beauty.

"Hey-hey-hey," teased Alicia, waggling her finger at Freddy, "What's goin' on over there, loverboy?"

Startled, the drummer gave the girls a guilty look, opening and closing his mouth in dumb succession.

"Nothing!" he insisted, grasping for an excuse. "I-I think she might have passed out!"

The playful raised eyebrows became knit with concern, and everyone except Zack gathered around Katie's limp body.

"Is she alright?" asked Dewey, skirting around the gathering with worry in his voice.

"Put some pants on, then we'll talk," said Summer, checking Katie's pulse. "Looks to me as though she needs water, and quick."

"Then you're in luck!" they heard Zack's broad voice call from the shrubs, "Come check this out, you guys!"

0-o

"Kick ass!" Freddy and Dewey announced in unison.

They were right to think so. Not far from the side of the road, beneath a dense canopy of trees, a sprawling creek shimmered beneath the rays of sun that filtered in through the leaves. Its banks were steep and muddy, but the water looked fantastic. Adjacent to the band, on the other side of the pool, there must have been three dozen people splashing about, swaying on tyre swings and setting up barbeques in the grass.

The School of Rock gave a delighted cheer, and Dewey shook his flabby girth around in a thrilled, clumsy dance. With mock disgust, the girls turned away and jogged to the van for their swimsuits. Dewey, of course, was still in his briefs, and plunged into the water without a second thought.

"What should I do with Katie?" Freddy asked him, worriedly.

He was carrying Katie's unconscious form in his arms as he stood by the riverbank. Dewey surfaced and slicked his long hair back, thinking for a moment.

"Just ease her in," he replied after a moment, gesturing for Freddy to obey.

Freddy nodded and stepped into the warm water, crouching low and immersing the girl up to her neck. She gave a startled gasp and her eyes fluttered open. Zack and Lawrence rolled their trousers up to the knees and waded in beside them, anxious to see if she was okay.

"Hey," she mumbled, grinning awkwardly up at the guys, "What happened?"

"Heya, Spunkmaiden!" Dewey enthused, discreetly trying to pull his underwear out from his backside, "Lost y'there for a lil' bit, you feelin' okay?"

"I think so," she nodded, easing herself out of Freddy's hold and standing upright woozily. "Where are we?"

"Not rightly sure," he replied. He turned his attention to the gathering at the far end of the pool and called out, "Hey, can anyone tell me where we are just now?"

"Coup'la miles from Cleveland, Ohio," answered a gentleman, prodding at steaks and sausages on the grill, "You folks hungry?"

A twisted grin crept over Dewey Finn's mouth, and fastening his waistband, he gave the man a big thumbs-up.

o-0

It was almost four.

On a densely grassed bank in the shade, Alicia, Tomika, Marta and Summer lay sprawled and soaking, their bellies full and their bodies cooled by a gentle afternoon breeze. Lawrence was wading about in the shallows, just circling a patch of reeds like he was on patrol. He was quite well-built, Tomika thought to herself with a lopsided smile - granted, he had a small paunch at the belly, and there wasn't much definition in his chest or shoulders, but his frame was certainly sturdy, and his posture rigid. She liked it.

Zack Mooneyham had nestled comfortably into a groove at the base of a tall oak, his bare feet dangling into the water as he plucked at one of Dewey's acoustic guitars. Not far from him, the Dewster himself was at rest in a mud flat - a slippery brown snow angel who _still _hadn't bothered to clothe. That explained why the other people had skedaddled so soon, thought Zack with a tired smirk. He set his guitar down and folded his hands behind his head, dreaming up chords for a new hit song, while at the same time wondering where in the world Freddy and Katie disappeared to.

"John Paul Jones," she said, clicking her fingers.

"Zeppelin guitarist," replied Freddy with a casual smirk, "Or was he on bass? Did Zeppelin even _have _bass?"

"A lot of pre-Nirvana bands didn't," she shrugged, "Grunge was a revolution."

"My dog's name's Nirvana," he told her with a larrikin grin.

"Really?"

"No, actually it's Cedric," he murmured. "Mom thought Nirvana meant acid."

"It probably does for a lot of people!"

The two of them shared a laugh, and Freddy's heart soared, though he didn't dare let it show. He just lay back on a fat, gnarled root, chewing a grass straw like a backward hick. Katie was crouched in a pool not far beneath him, combing her fingers through her wet tresses distractedly.

"Thanks again for this morning," she said quietly.

"Katie, it's no big deal!" he snickered, turning onto his front, "Thank Summer, she...checked your pulse."

"I will," she nodded, before a thoughtful pause passed over them. "Hey, did...oh man, this is gonna sound so mainstream pop, but...did Zack do anything...at all...that you know of, while I was out?"

Freddy disguised his hurt with a complete lack of expression. He was conflicted now: bad-mouth his best friend and score big points with the girl of his dreams? Or tell her the truth and be faced with more setbacks? He sighed through his nose and rolled over to face the sky.

"Uh, he found this creek?" Freddy offered, flatly.

"Yeah?" said Katie, her face lighting up. "I'm gonna go thank him, okay?"

 "Sure."

He watched her jog over to the brooding musical genius he called Zack, and gave a disgruntled mutter, cursing himself for doing the right thing.

"Buenos noches, stud!" purred Dewey, wading over. "Way to earn some serious brownie points with the face of bass, am I right?"

"Yeah, but she's still hot for Moons," he sighed, sliding off his perch.

"Don't pull a love muscle, Spazzy," said Dewey, slapping a muddy, encouraging hand over Freddy's bare back. "The tour has just begun."


End file.
